Homily

Holy Week opens with the memory of Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem. Jesus’ journey, which began in Galilee, is about to come to an end. The final stop, Matthew’s Gospel tells us, is Bethpage, on the Mount of Olives. Jesus stops and sends ahead of him two disciples so that they may procure for him a colt. He wants to enter Jerusalem as he had never done before. The Messiah, who up until that moment had remained hidden, takes possession of the holy city and of the temple, revealing in this way his mission as the true and new pastor of Israel, even if this—and he knows it—will result in his death. He does not enter on a chariot as the captain of a liberating army, although he uses the mounted ride of sovereigns from antiquity: an ass (Gen 49:11). The ass does not signify poverty or the diminution of dignity; rather, the opposite is true. Jesus knew what is written in the prophet Zechariah: “Rejoice greatly, O daughter Zion! Shout aloud, O daughter Jerusalem! Lo, your king comes to you; humble and riding on a donkey, on a colt, the foal of a donkey” (9:9).

Jesus enters Jerusalem as a king. The people seem to intuit this as they begin to lay their cloaks along the street`, as was the custom in the East whenever a sovereign passed by. Also the olive branches, taken from the fields and laid out along Jesus’ path, serve as carpets. The cry “Hosanna” (which in Hebrew means “help”) expresses their need for salvation and assistance. Finally, the Savior had arrived. Jesus enters Jerusalem as well as all of our cities today as the one who alone can free us from slavery and render us participants in a life more human and sound. He does not bear the face of one who is powerful or strong, but of a meek and humble man. Six days will be enough to make everything clear—the face of Jesus will be that of a crucified, conquered man. This is the paradox of Palm Sunday that makes us live together the triumph and passion of Jesus. Indeed, the liturgy, with the narration of the Gospel of the Passion after Jesus’ entrance in Jerusalem, wants to speed up time and to show immediately the true face of this king. The only crown that will be placed upon his head within the next few hours is one of thorns; his scepter will be the reed, and his vestments a red cloak to be made fun of. How true are Paul’s words: “Though he was from God, did not regard equality with God as something to be exploited, but emptied himself, taking the form of a slave”! (Phil 2:6-7).

Those olive branches that today are a sign of celebration, within a few days, in the garden where Jesus draw himself away to pray, will see him sweat blood because of the anguish of his death. Jesus does not flee. He takes his cross and with it reaches Golgotha, where he was crucified. His death, which in the eyes of many seemed more like a defeat, in reality, was a victory; it was the logical conclusion of a life spent for the Lord. Truly only God could have lived and died in that way—that is, forgetting himself so as to give himself completely to others. It is a beautiful tradition that wants each one of us to bring home an olive branch that is blessed after we have sung along with the children of the Jews: “Blessed is he who comes in the name of the Lord.” This is the memory of the day of Jesus’ entrance into Jerusalem. That branch is a sign of peace. But, we must also remember Jesus’ need for our companionship. Beneath those very age-old olive branches in Gethsemane, Jesus, in the throes of suffering, wanted his disciples near by him. How bitter are those words addressed to Peter: “So, could you not stay awake with me one hour?” (Mt 26:40). May the olive branch be a sign of our responsibility to stay near to the Lord above all during these days. This is a beautiful way to console a man who is about to die for all of us.